


The Price of Fame

by the_me09



Category: Mojo (1997)
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-15
Updated: 2010-10-15
Packaged: 2018-09-19 12:25:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9440366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_me09/pseuds/the_me09
Summary: Johnny will be famous, whatever the cost. He nods, smiling, but it feels like his cheeks are cracking.





	

He’s wound up, like one of the strings on his guitar. Pulled tight, stretched to the very edge. But that’s how they like him, tight; he’ll make a good sound.

A tremor runs through him, and he holds onto his knees to try to still the shaking. Ezra has left him in this strange room with a man he doesn’t know. He can’t remember the guy’s name, but he better remember quick, they like to hear their names, shouted in his voice.

Johnny sniffles and rubs his hand across his face. He needs to pull it together; they’re not going to want a crybaby. Innocent, nervous he can get away with, in fact, he thinks they like it better when he’s nervous, but crying… Ezra hates it when he cries. This is why the guys call him a pussy, a wuss, little Johnny Silver, always sniveling.

He smiles wide as the man returns, clutches his knees convulsively. Roger, that’s his name. He’d said call me Roger with that smile. The smile he’d come to know as ‘when you’re about to come I want to you call me this.’

“What’s the matter Johnny boy?” Roger sits next to him on the bed, his voice soft, caring. He may care right now, but once he gets off, Johnny will be able to cry as much as he wants.

“I’m just a very emotional person.” He says, nodding. He swallows as the man’s hand cups his face. This man’s teeth are yellow, crooked, disgusting and he can’t believe he’s going to have to kiss that mouth.

“Are you?” The way he says it makes Johnny shiver, he wants to curl up in a little ball, but he can’t. He can’t walk away; he’s going to be famous.

He knows his eyes are full of tears, but he won’t blink, won’t because then they would spill over and he can’t have that.

“Look at those pretty blue eyes.” The man breathes on him and his breath smells like alcohol and Johnny can’t help his lip curling up in disgust.

It’s then that he feels stubble scratching against his chin and he shudders and there’s a thick tongue in his mouth, mapping out his teeth and tasting like sour whiskey. He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see the face and two tears escape.

Roger pulls away and wipes the tears. He’s grinning, leering really, and Johnny sniffles and tries not to make it obvious.

“It’s okay; I’ll take care of you Johnny.” He sets his hand on Johnny’s hand, on his knee.

They sit like that for a few minutes until Johnny thinks maybe, maybe that was all… but then the hand moves and he curses himself for being so stupid. Roger slides his hand, slowly, up the inside of Johnny’s thigh. He wants to close his legs, squeeze them tight together, stand up and leave, he hesitantly spreads them a little further.

But he wants to be famous. It’s like an ache. A constant refrain ‘famousfamousfamous…’ Rogers hand brushes his crotch and his whole body stiffens. He holds himself rigid as the hand slowly travels down to cup his balls through the thin fabric of his trousers.

“You like that?” The hand slides further in between his legs until he’s practically sitting on it, and the hand presses at his arse and he’s so glad he’s still got his trousers on. He knows they’ll come off later and that hand will be able to reach him, fingers will be able to get inside him, but right now there’s a sort of relief knowing it’s not yet.

He nods, smiling, but it feels like his cheeks are cracking.

Roger leers and moves his hand to run across the flatness of his stomach. He starts unbuttoning the shirt, puts his hands on his sides on the skin just above his trousers, holding him in place.

As if he could leave.

“You’re a tiny little thing ain’t you?” He presses his mouth to Johnny’s again as he undoes the zip of his trousers. A shiver runs through Johnny as he feels his flimsy defenses against intrusion being stripped away.

“It’s okay Johnny, I’ll take real good care of you.” Roger grins and pushes him down on the bed.

It’ll be okay.

He wants to be famous.


End file.
